That First Night
by chickenwriter
Summary: My goodness it has been a while since I posted! At least a while for me...this is rambling from my new policy, 'thinking bad' I just let it roll out of my head. Clarisse and Joe as always. This could have been a chaptered story,but Oh well. Oneshot. Enjoy


**That First Night**

Rating: K (just to be safe.)

Disclaimer: They aren't mine . . . blah blah blah . . . This is why I have no money . . . because I can't come up with my own characters.

On August 22nd, 1998, Clarisse had rolled over and kissed her husband goodnight. Gently he wrapped his frail arms around her. He whispered 'I love you' and she turned off the light.

On August 23rd, a haunting scream erupted from the suite of the queen. The illness they thought was gone had returned. And the man she fell asleep so peacefully with . . . was dead.

Joseph watched as they carried a sheet-clad gurney into a limousine. On that stretcher, they carried a husband, lover, friend and ruler. It was much more than a man who had died. To Joseph, to Clarisse, and to the people. There was no doubting what Clarisse had felt for that man they carried so routinely away. Especially when you could see her standing in the doorway and holding a tear-stained handkerchief to her blank face. She looked as though she had seen a ghost, her flesh white as the sheet that covered her husband's body. Joseph turned just in time to see her whisper 'I love you, too.' Saying what he would later find out she forgot to say the night before.

No one other than himself knew the love he harbored so deeply in his heart for the broken woman in the doorway. She could only guess at what he felt for her. Her best guess was a very good friend. But at this moment, Joseph wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms, where she could be safe. Safe from sympathy, safe from the press and safe from the outside world. He knew it would be perfectly all right to go and stand by her. To offer at least his presence if she should need it. So he did. Suddenly, in a crowd of a thousand people who had gathered outside the palace gates, he felt a tear hit his skin through the cloth of his jacket. She had lay her head down on his shoulder, desperate for someone to lean on. He was happy to be that someone, but he had lost more than competition for the queen's love. He had lost a trusted employer, a great man, and a wonderful friend. He could remember the many nights when he would play poker with the king and his cronies. He held those times dear, even if all he saw on a normal day was the passion in Rupert's eyes for his wife. And the deep longing in hers.

The doors of the limo closed sharply, and he felt a twitch from the queen. His arm snaked its way around her, pulling her close. She didn't seem to mind. He could feel the tabloid reporters breathing down his neck, but that was not an issue right now. It wouldn't be the first time they accused them of an affair. All three had laughed it off. But somehow that had made it worse. Joseph began dreaming about if it would be possible.

What was running through Clarisse's mind was the warmth creeping through her body by just having Joseph near her. At this moment, He was all she had left. Pierre was off doing 'God knows what with the church.' as Rupert often said, and Philippe was off with 'that dreadful woman at that terrible college.' as he also often said. When the limo drove away, Clarisse swore she felt part of her soul leave her body. What on Earth would she do now? How would the country survive? How would she?

Joseph felt her cling to him, as if he were the pillar. She needed him. And that was all he could ever ask for. She tuned to face him and buried her face in his chest. She, too, could feel the reporters feasting upon her behavior, but that was pushed to the back of her mind as she realized how good it felt to truly lean on someone, to truly need somebody else.

That night was the first of many nights Clarisse had feared. Her husband and she had spent a total of three nights a year apart, usually in succession. Three nights where they received no sleep at all. Of course, in the end, the numbers had climbed, but she tried as hard as she could to stay with him in his hospital room. This night was just the beginning.

Joseph lived in a room in the palace, 24 hours on call. He was important, the head of her security, the go-to man, if you will. So he roamed the palace often at night. This was one of those nights. He couldn't get any sleep thinking about her. He strolled into the control room at half-past two a.m. He could her a soft noise coming from monitor three. Robert sat looking off into space. Robert had lost his childhood friend. He had planned to retire at the end of the year. Now he put in his retirement request this afternoon.

"What's that?" Joseph asked, putting his face to the monitor.

"It's her." The queen was curled up in the window seat, sobbing. He couldn't stand to see her like this. This was the only time she was a woman, the only time he had ever seen her weakness.

"Oh, Clarisse." He whispered, reaching his hand out to touch the screen. "I have to go to her." He said to himself. He didn't hear Robert's warnings behind him. Robert was saying he didn't think it was a good idea. Joseph knew it was.

She heard the knock on the door, and it truly startled her.

"Who . . .Who's there?" She sniffled, standing up and worriedly moving toward the door.

"Your majesty, I wanted to check on you." She would recognize that voice anywhere. That was her savior, her best friend, her Joseph.

"Joseph." She pulled open the door and smiled slightly, to cover the pain in her face for even just a few seconds.

"Your majesty." He hadn't thought of what he would say when the door opened.

"Oh . . . I look pitiful." She winced at his gaze sweeping over her body. He knew he shouldn't be making fantasies in his head about the grieving queen. It was morally wrong.

"No, you don't. You look like you're supposed to. Actually . . . " she motioned for him to come inside. "You look better than you're supposed to. You always have." He shouldn't have let that one come out of his mind. She let a tear slip down her cheeks. "I came for you."

"What will I do now?" Clarisse looked up at him with her eyes wide. He had never seen her so vulnerable. "The Prime Minister said they've never had to deal with an unmarried Queen. There's never been a Renaldi that was a woman. They are very confused. And Philippe wants to finish college . . . " She stopped suddenly, unable to continue. She was sniffling and sputtering like a child. He wrapped his arms around her and he felt the tears coming full force. Full body sobs trembled through her small frame. They stood for more than fifteen minutes like this. Supporting each other, as he had gotten teary-eyed as well. His tears made a path from his eyes into her soft hair. "Joseph." She broke the silence with a squeak of his name.

"Yes?"

"This may be an odd request, but the bed is so empty . . . would you . . . "

"It would be my pleasure." She turned her head slightly to the side and whispered, 'Thank You.' He told her she was always welcome and moved his hand down to intertwine with hers. Together they walked solemnly to her bed, and lay down. Minutes after taking opposite sides of the bed, Joseph could feel a warmth across his body. The queen had scooted closer to him, curving in front of him so she was close enough to touch. He resisted putting his arms around her, until she reached back and pulled his hand over her to rest on her stomach. The fact that this sleep-over was completely innocent almost killed him, but he would always respect her before acting on anything. He thought she was asleep when he felt her squeeze his hand and whisper.

"I love you." She turned to face him. He kissed her head and held her close, eliminating any negative space between them.

"I love you, too." He responded simply because he had learned. She had to know how he felt if tomorrow never came.


End file.
